Every Breath, Every Hour
by eccentricpetal
Summary: It was in that moment he knew. Every breath, every hour had come to this.


**Every Breath, Every Hour.**

**Authors Note: **Hello there reader, I haven't written anything for this website in what I proclaim to be years… but, this idea has been pestering me for days now and I feel the need to share it with you foxy fanfictioners. ;)  
>After watching the final episode of Sherlock, series two, this idea popped in to my head and my sister-in-law apparently thought the same as me, according to my mother. Any who, this story is now inspired by the marvellous singer <em>Christina Perri<em> and her stunning lyrics in _A Thousand Years_. I hope you enjoy this and please review – they will be very much appreciated!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>It is quite obvious I own nothing but the simple idea of what could have happened.  
>_<p>

"_You_," that was the single word that kept repeating itself in Molly Hooper's head. Since the word has escaped those treacherously beautiful lips of Sherlock Holmes, she could have sworn her heart felt complete. After all these years, she felt whole. This was how she imagined death would feel – it wasn't perfect but she felt… right. She regretted nothing of her past.

Currently, she was stood in the least used bathroom of St. Bart's putting on the final touches of her make up. She knew she didn't look perfect but she was sure it would work. When it happened, everyone would be in shock and John... well, he'd just see what he expected to see.

There came a faint knock on the door and she turned to it as it opened. Sherlock Holmes, in all of his glory, stepped inside and she could have sworn she saw him pause just slightly before shutting the door.

"Molly, you look…" She tilted her head to the side and then turned to look in the mirror again, smiling at her reflection.

"I know." She spoke, her voice strong… so unlike her usual self.

"I've come up with another plan." He stated, staring at her with those distant, cold, calculating eyes.

"Sherlock, it's already set in place." Her voice still the same, not wavering a smidgen.

"It's better." She pushed a stray piece of her hair under the cap of her wig and smiled to herself.

"There isn't enough time. Jim will be here soon." She knew very well he had already sent the text.

"I don't like this idea, Molly." She froze at the sound of his voice, and stiffened as she found her reflection no longer alone in the mirror.

"Of course you don't," she laughed, keeping herself composed, "you didn't come up with it."

Her eyes found his in the mirror, and they stayed looking at one another for a long moment. She felt his fingers brush against the small of her back, her breath hitched in her throat.

"I don't agree with what you're doing." His eyes narrowed on hers in the mirror, slightly, and anyone who simply glanced would not have noticed. But Molly, Molly did. She was so hooked on how close he was to her, she couldn't help but notice every minute detail – she was sure he would have been impressed with every deduction she was making, so far.

"It isn't your choice." She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers begin to circle the small of her back, a soothing motion.

"Let me make it my choice." He whispered, his head leaning in to her ear and kissing the tip of it.

"It's better this way."

She knew what he was doing. Amplifying his flirtation to get his way but it would not work, not today and… _not ever again_.

He was about to speak when the buzzing of his phone made him stop and they both knew that, that was the cue for everything to begin to fall in to place.

She pulled away from him before he had another chance to do anything to try and stop her.

"I'll see you then." She turned to look at him one more time, taking in everything she possibly could, so she wouldn't forget.

He spoke not a single word as she left the bathroom. He simply stared at his lone reflection in the mirror and pushed away his disgust with himself until he felt emotionless.

He left the bathroom.

The shot rang out and for a moment, he stared at the lifeless body of his arch nemesis before his eyes flickered up to the body of someone who looked identical to himself. Except, he knew it wasn't. She pulled him off quite splendid though, apart from her height. The wig was an exact replica of his own hair; her eyes were now the same shade as his and her skin just as pale. Her lips weren't quite as perfect but it would work, he was sure of it. Her clothing was his own and he quickly began to shed off his coat and hand it to her.

"I know this is baffling to you, Sherlock. I think before I do this, I should explain the one thing I know you'll never understand." Molly spoke as she put on his coat, smiling warmly at him. "I've loved you from the very first moment I saw you, and every day I have died waiting for you. All along, I believed that I would find you and today, I finally did. You gave me the only thing I ever asked of you, you showed me that I mattered. You may not love me, but that's good enough for me. I can do something for you, the one thing you and the world needs. I can keep you alive, and that is what I will do. Every breath, every hour has come to this, Sherlock. I have loved you for a thousand years and I will love you for a thousand more… wherever I'll be." She was stood in front of him now and she lent in and kissed his cheek. "Now go. Play your part and I'll do mine." She whispered, stepping round him and walking to the ledge of St. Bart's roof.

She stepped up on to it.

His eyes were trained on her as she lifted her phone to her ear and waited for Sherlock to ring John.

The conversation was heart breaking and emotion laced his voice more than it ever had before.

Tears wet his face. He wasn't quite sure if it were for John, or for the woman who was on the ledge in front of him.

Before the conversation ended, he had left the roof and the hospital and found himself hidden in the streets, watching the vision of black atop of the roof.

As soon as the conversation ended, he texted Molly, and then watched as she threw the phone to the floor.

He didn't know how she could do this. Love was a weakness, he knew that. He was in this mess because he cared for people, after all, but yet as he looked up at Molly on that ledge, standing alone, he had never seen anyone quite so strong; so beautiful.

Time stood still. His heart stopped beating.

_How could he let her do this?_

_Why did his chest ache?_

_Was it raining?_ His face felt wet.

_Why couldn't he breathe properly?_

He couldn't let her do this. He just couldn't. He would rather die than watch her take his place. He would not let anyone or anything take her away from this world, from him.

He took one step closer to run, to save her.

She jumped.

He watched in agony as she cascaded to the ground below, like a fallen angel. His knees buckled beneath him, taking him to the ground with her.

His mouth emitted nothing but gasps and choking sobs, as his eyes spilled out tear after tear.

She was dead.

Molly Hooper was dead.

She lay where he should be lying.

She had people running to her frantically, the way he should have.

He looked up to where everyone was crowded. He saw John. He then saw Molly's lifeless body being wheeled inside of the hospital.

It was in that moment he knew.

Every breath, every hour had come to this.

She had been wrong.

He, Sherlock Holmes, was in love with Molly Hooper.

He would die every day waiting for her because he knew that one day he would find her.

From now on, he will love her for a thousand years and then a thousand more… wherever she is.

**Authors Note: **This turned out in ways I did not expect it to. I think Sherlock is a bit out of character. However, a lot is happening in this story. He doesn't know what to do to sort out his situation other than with the help of the non-counted one, Molly. He then has to figure out why he is feeling the way he is throughout this plan of theirs. Anyways, I'd love reviews or any kind. I really would love to know how you all feel about my interpretation of what could have happened.

Petal.


End file.
